


Under

by Lina_Love



Series: Eddsworld Bullshit [7]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Bottom tord, Date Night Gone Wrong, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Subspace, Teasing, Top Tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25460191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lina_Love/pseuds/Lina_Love
Summary: tord and Tom have some fun , a lot of teasing and then some sweet fucking after carejust a lot of teasing and big gay feelings , smut for smut's sake
Relationships: Tom/Tord (Eddsworld)
Series: Eddsworld Bullshit [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796059
Comments: 9
Kudos: 81





	Under

**Author's Note:**

> honestly just more bottom tord because I love it so much , and I've never written some more serious dom/sub stuff and wanted to give it a shot
> 
> plot what plot zone only

Ｕｎｄｅｒ ；  
ＴｏｍＴｏｒｄ

The gentle rise and fall of Tord's chest was the only thing that Tom could seem to focus on. Despite the glow on the horribly small television in Tom's room, despite the fact that sleep was starting to tug him down, all he could do was stare, unashamed, at the foreigner snuggled against his side.

Tom was propped up against a mountain of pillows, the back of his head resting uncomfortably on the hard wall behind him. The slight stinging pain on the back of his skull was more than worthwhile with the sight beneath him.

A wild mass of hair was attached to the head that was nestled against his chest, and farther down, the entirety of Tord's body was cocooned in a deep blue blanket, plush and soft to the touch.

It moved with each even breath the man took. Tom was always caught entirely off guard by just how normal Tord could be in these moments. No loud outbursts, no threats and troubling comments about inner violent thoughts.

Just existing here, enthralled by the horror movie playing softly to twin with the quiet buzz of the crickets and frogs in the summer night.

His eyes looked heavy. He looked tired, a light pink dusting his nose and cheeks as his body slowed to try and welcome sleep.

And Tom was more than willing to let Tord get there, but a small shift in his position caused the smaller man beside him to gasp sharply, body going tense once more.

It caused a small bit of panic in the Brit.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't like, almost break your arm or something, did I?"

No. This was much more embarrassing than his arm being bent uncomfortably beneath him.

One of Tom's hands had brushed against a particularly sensitive and ticklish spot on his lower right side. He didn't know what had caused the small space on him to make him so reactive, but whatever it was, it was very real and very present.

And there was no hiding the fact when one of Tom's hands, concerned, came to hold the spot to pull him closer.

Another sharp intake of breath as he squirmed away, kicking the blanket off in the process.

The look of absolute betrayal on Tord's face was met with a blank look on Tom's.

Processing. Trying to figure out what the fuck was going on here, why the soft domesticy was ruined, and what the fuck he had done wrong to set off the unpredictable fireball in front of him.

It took too long to click in the drunk's mind, but when it did, the gentle quietness of the room was disrupted by the loud, mean spirited laugh.

It instantly caused the light flush in Tord's features to darken, moving to the tips of his ears, embarrassment rushing through him.

"It's not that fucking funny! What's so wrong with it?!"

Tord sounded just as pissed off as he looked, but anything Tom could do here would simply be paying him back for years of teasing abuse.

His voice was smug, dripping from his lips like seductive honey.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just didn't know you were so sensitive."

Before Tord could spit out some curses in retaliation, Tom had moved in, gripping Tord's hips, applying a decent amount of pressure to the spot from moments earlier that had given him a very worthwhile reaction.

And as always, Tord didn't disappoint. His body was squirming again in Tom's grip, unsure if he wanted to wriggle away from the exploitation of a weakness or if he wanted more touch focused there.

His brain didn't have to wonder for long, because Tom moved his hands back to himself once he had settled the Norwegian to rest comfortably on his pillows.

The lingering moment of silence, the quiet question in Tord's eyes, was distracting, but not distracting enough to keep one of Tom's arms from coming out to hold Tord's wrists together.

Inpatient as ever, Tord's lips were already slowly opening, that question lingering in his mind about to spill out verbally, but before he could speak up, Tom moved his free hand to pinch the new found hot spot.

It caused a distraught yelp that caught both of them off guard.

Tom was the first to recover, lips turning up into a coy grin.

"Why don't we see how sensitive the rest of you is?"

'𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬.'

The single word rushed through Tord's thoughts at the sentiment behind Tom's statement.

And the only other thing he could think of as his arms were released, as his hoodie was torn over his head, was how easy this new little game would be for Tom.

How drawn out it would be for himself.

He knew his body better than anyone, and nearly every little suspected spot was nothing but pure and condensed stimulation.

Still. Games were fun. Even ones that were rigged against him. Just to be involved at all was sometimes the only way to have a victory.

"What happened to our horror binge night?"

As he spoke, he knew that he was stalling, and if he knew, then Tom knew as well.

The look of excitement and cockiness on Tom's face wasn't any type of comfort, and Tord knew the answer to his question without Tom having to say it.

'𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.'

The cynicism of his thought only came full circle as Tom took the next step to undressing him. A fly unzipped, and pants and boxers were tugged down without a breath of hesitance.

They'd gone through this enough before that the quickness of these unprompted meetings no longer felt weird.

Desensitized to the awkwardness of undressing each other.

Dull grey eyes simply stayed trained on the man in question, not giving away any of his emotions yet. 

He was determined to keep them on an even playing field, to keep himself in the running without submitting completely.

Tord felt less than powerful right now despite that. Exposed and vulnerable beneath Tom, who was still completely dressed.

All he had control over now was the way he reacted to Tom's searching hands.

Tom's fingertips felt too soft as he began to run his hands down his sides, like a feather being dragged across his skin.

Already he could feel the effects of his over responsive body, muscles stiffening up, the breath hitching in his throat already threatening to give him away.

Any hope to wait this out with his head held high was diminished then and there.

The look of pure determination on Tom's face made Tord shiver as Tom's hands moved back up his sides, applying a bit more pressure from his trip down.

The Brit was currently just moving forward to observe Tord's reactions 

Tom found he wasn't even close to being disappointed so far. If anything, he had wished he'd noticed all this sooner.

Meticulous in the way his hands moved to find new flesh, watching Tord's expression for every new tell.

Goosebumps that were starting to trace up the Norwegian's arms, and all he was doing was caressing his sides. It sent a wave of arousal straight through the Brit.

Up and down, gentle then hard then gentle again. Mean spirited teasing, simply acting out for his own enjoyment without a thought for Tord's. Bathing in the power and the heat that was starting to pool in his gut just from watching Tord grow more and more restless.

The power was starting to go to his head, and by extension, to his dick.

The pace of it was much too slow for Tord's liking. He liked it even less knowing that something so simple could cause a chain reaction in his mind. In his nerves.

The way that Tord's body was starting to twitch away every now and again urged Tom farther. Watching as Tord's face began to shift into irritation.

Enjoying the feeling offered to him, but not enjoying it nearly enough to continue like this for much longer.

Tom decided to take pity, to place the plan of dragging this out for hours onto the back burner.

Once his hands had traveled up the Norwegian's sides again, he moved them forward.

Brushing over pectoral muscles, before his fingers settled to rest on one of his nipples.

The same sound of air being sucked in from earlier caught his attention. And as he rolled a pink bud between his fingers lazily, his other hand moved down to start to tease the flesh of one of Tord's hip bones.

The response was exactly what Tom had been wanting and hoping for.

The way that slightly abnormal breathing shifted into being just a bit too fast. Tord's face lit like a Christmas tree, his face slowly starting to grow red, the color spreading, ears and chest warming up in a dusty pink glow.

Tord's brow furrowed as Tom picked up his menstruations, pinching harder onto the nub, relentless with the way he toyed with it in hand.

The shocked, stuttered little pitched moan finally drew Tom in the rest of the way.

His grin was the definition of too smug for his own good.

If Tord wasn't so focused on melting into the feelings he was bathing in he would have knocked the look off his face.

Instead he laid there, intentive.

"You know what?"

Tord dreaded the question, the sound of his voice, knowing anything he could say in response would sound embarrassing and desperate.

Still, he willed himself to respond.

One word.

"What?"

And that one word came out through clenched teeth, a small bit of shakiness to it. 

This was going to be a very long night if he already sounded this wrecked, but the thought was put away in favor of absorbing Tom's words.

"First of all, stop wiggling around. Then I'll tell you."

How was it possible that he looked even more smug than he had a few moments ago?

Maybe it was because of the way that Tord was starting his gentle squirming again.

Tom waited until he stilled to continue.

"Look at you, already getting hard for me. I wouldn't want to overwhelm your senses with sex, so if you want to cum tonight, you're going to do it from just my hands. No lips, no sex, nothing else. Got it?"

Tord had always enjoyed these bits of power play. More so than he'd ever admit, but the soft feeling of submission made his mind tick happily.

"Yeah. I got it. Could you just--"

He hated the sound of his voice terribly right now.

"Can you go back to moving? Please?"

And who was Tom to deny such a sweet request?

To have Tord asking for him to touch him, for Tord to say please, for him to be forced to ask for more of nearly nothing to try and reach his orgasm.

He mentally kicked himself in the head for not coming up with something like this sooner

He can't believe he was forced to wait this long to have Tord working for his release, pushing and forcing his body to respond with no direct stimulation.

There was no point in dwelling on the past, though. Because in the present? Right below him was an increasingly frustrated Norwegian, flushed and desperate for more.

And as he was sure that was the closest Tord would ever get to begging, he gave into the request and started to move his hand off of Tord's hip, lowering to grope at his inner thigh, none too gentle, pinching Tord's nipple at the same time.

The response was the first real moan of the evening, more whiny than anything. Tom loved the sound of the high, girlish notes that Tord's moans dripped with when he was particularly worked up.

Skilled fingers twisted the nipple between them once more as his other hand moved from simply groping to rubbing over the soft flesh of his thigh. his hand frustratingly close to Tord's neglected member, fully hard now, curved upwards and seeking stimulation it wouldn't be getting for a while.

Nails pinched into a fleshy spot too close to Tord's dick for comfort, a sharp sensation becoming more prominent due to oversensitivity.

It rewarded Tom with another pitched moan, longer than the last. Tord's hips bucked up instinctively, and as soon as he did, Tom moved back and removed his hands completely.

Hadn't he told the other to stop squirming?

Another strung out groan, but this one was full of desperate frustration.

The look he leveled Tom with was icy cold.

Tom responded with a simple shrug, gaze expectant.

Fucker. Tord hated it when he made him ask for what he wanted.

"Please, I need it, I just--"

"What do you need? Use your words."

Tord's irritation only grew at the response, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I need you to start touching me again. Please? Come on, my dick too, it's not enough, it's going to drive me fucking crazy, you asshole."

That smile on Tom's lips had shifted into something darker.

"Oh, no, see, if you want me to touch you there, you're going to have to ask a Hell of a lot nicer than that."

Tord's blood boiled at the response. If the slow buildup and sexually fueled excitement hadn't been so quick to come forward, he would've never played along to begin with.

But it was too late to go back now. The only thought in his mind was how badly he needed to cum. And at this point, doing it himself would be much too unsatisfying.

So, the Norwegian swallowed every bit of his pride, meeting Tom's eyes with his own.

He dug his nails into his palms as he spoke, forcing the words out with a soft hiss.

"Please, Thomas. Please touch me where I need it most. I need you to use me, to play with my weak spots, I need you to take me apart. Will you take me apart, please? I need you to do it for me. Take care of me."

The words were bitter on his tongue despite how true it may be, but it seemed to do the trick, because without another word, Tom was moving again.

The sheer amount of pleasure that came with hearing Tord talk like that, hearing him begging. He hadn't heard him truly beg like that before, but now that he knew just how much he liked it, he would never let this man cum again with asking for it.

As Tom's hands moved to settle on the warm skin of the man beneath him, his words fell like pure sin from his lips.

"When you talk like that, I'll do anything you want. You sound so sweet."

Any usual retort didn't even enter Tord's mind as large hands went back to caressing his inner thighs, touch near worshiping. 

A soft sigh of relief passed through the Norwegian's lips as he body naturally fell back into the pleasure that was found in his partner's touch.

The tick in his mind that feared the loss of control fully crumbled as a loud moan spilled from his lips the moment Tom's teeth sunk into the original spot in question, digging into the flesh of his side.

It was what broke his brain completely, sinking down fully into the assault of sensations. Sinking into himself, existing in that moment simply to let Tom push him farther and farther down.

A livewire of pleasure personified.

Tom glanced up as he moved back from the bruise he has been making on the smaller man's flesh, eyes trained on Tord's expression.

It was one he hadn't seen before during their time spent together behind closed doors.

There wasn't that tense furrow in his brow, the strained muscles that had his lips turned into a wordless snarl.

He didn't look like he was there. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, head tilted back into the pillow beneath him. Mouth parted, lax, stuttered breaths coming out abnormally.

When his hand had stopped inching closer to his dick, pausing, concerned, Tord's eyes shot open.

The distress there made Tom panic internally.

"Hey, dude--"

"I wasn't moving. Why did you stop?"

His voice sounded just as concerned as his eyes looked.

"Because you looked like I was killing you. You're okay for me to keep going, right?"

The quickness in his nod made Tom feel a little better.

"Alright. But, just like, hit me or something if it feels like it's too much. Or say the word rainbow."

"Yeah, alright! I will, come on. Please."

That strained, anxious neediness was still lining the foreigner's words, and Tom shook his head in response, hand settled steady on his thighs. 

"I need you to say it for me, alright?"

Tom wouldn't feel right going on like this, not if Tord truly wasn't in his right state of mind. 

"Rainbow. I can think. I just don't want to. Keep going now. I'm fine."

Tord sounded just a tad more lucid with that, so in lieu of replying again, he went back to the task at hand.

Steady hands wrapped around Tord's dick, and as the Norwegian fell back into that floaty place of pure pleasure, all he could do in response was let out a deep groan.

The relief at the touch to the place he needed it most only pushed him deeper into his own mind.

Tom almost found it amazing how good Tord was doing following the one request given to him. Even as his hand pumped his length, he remained still and pliant beneath him.

It was the only thought in Tord's mind that wasn't focused purely on, '𝘛𝘰𝘮, 𝘛𝘰𝘮, 𝘛𝘰𝘮--'

Be good. Stay still, and drink in every bit of affection and time that was being blanketed over him.

The feeling was warm, it made his body fuzzy, lighting up in the places that Tom was touching. Completely and utterly lost in nothing but the man working him over.

The moment that lingered was spent mostly on Tom's own fascination, stretching things out to make sure that Tord was still doing alright. He looked more than fine, more relaxed and happy than he'd ever seen him.

But he knew what Tord wanted, and he knew that he wanted the same thing. To watch the rest of Tord's resolve fall completely and for him to give himself totally over to his own pleasure.

To be lost in it because of Tom alone.

As Tom started to move his hand, slowly, up and down Tord's dick, he watched as the Norwegian's lips parted around a silent moan. 

Each pump was slow, deliberate. Teasing in the tortuously slow movements. Tom took his time, taking to memory the way each and every vein felt against his skin, the curve, the length. The feeling of the wetness gathered at the tip, the way it felt as he spread it around.

Wetter, everything slicker and all the more fun to fondle in his grip.

Tom found Tord's dick to be absolutely perfect, oddly adorable. It wasn't small by any means of the word, but he easily had a few inches up on him. It made sense, Tord was smaller. 

Everything about him in this moment was so different from how he acted normally. He looked like eye candy, while he was usually more sour than a warhead.

Tom's lips curled into a grin, a light heat fluttering in his chest as his thoughts were proven right, watching as Tord's features finally started pinching up. Desperate. He was cute either way, be it soft and submissive or clawing and angry.

Tord looked increasingly irritated, uncomfortable. But Tom had to hand it to the fireball, because he was still forcing himself to be still for him.

He was beyond impressed, and he would always reward good behavior. Tom picked up his pace on his own. Horribly slow shifting to too fast, too soon.

The jump into the insistent and unrelenting stimulation after so long of being on the edge had Tord instantly reeling.

He threw his head back, neck jutting forward as he bucked his hips up wildly into the intense pleasure. A normal hand job like this would have never made him so reactive, but as he fell deeper and deeper, with how long he'd been forced to build up to it all…

The moan that was torn from him when Tom flicked his wrist expertly was loud and raw.

His entire body was an exposed nerve, and his hands reached down to grip the bed sheets below him, holding on tightly as he lost his previous resolve to obey, desperately bucking his hips up into Tom's hand.

Recklessly chasing his own pleasure, writhing beneath the other man as he became a slave to his own pleasure.

The Brit smiled fondly above him, knowing Tord was too far gone to get self conscious. He knew the tell when he was getting close to teetering over the edge, and he didn't have the heart to further enforce his request for the man not to move.

Tord was lovely like this, and as his hand continued to move, thumb abusing the tip of his partner's cock, fist pumping rhythmically, all he could do was observe.

To take in the deep red that settled on his face, the way his brows pinched together and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The ever present openness of his mouth. He looked like he was in pain, but that was just how Tord looked when he was this far in.

It was beautiful.

"Tom, Tom, I have to--"

"I know."

Tom's voice was smooth, controlled and calm. Gentle and understanding.

"It's alright. I got you, you're okay. Cum for me. You can. You've been so good for me, Tord."

That was all it took. With another squirm of his body, one more roll of his hips, the heat in his stomach consumed his entire body.

His back arched at the same time as a lewd moan escaped him, finally toppling over into an orgasm that turned the entire world off.

Tord's mind emptied, his load blowing over Tom's fist, painting his fingers white as he went limp.

A flushed chest heaved, head lolling to the side as Tom continued to stroke him through the afterwebs of his orgasm, only pulling back when a distressed whine came from the man below him due to overstimulation.

He pulled his hand away, fondness tracing his features as he moved to grab a dirty shirt from the floor to wipe his hand off, and to clean Tord as well as he could for the moment.

When he was satisfied with the clean up job, he picked up Tord's boxers and took the liberty of sliding them back onto the man's body.

Then something else became more pressing, the strain of his own prominent boner was just as distracting as the way Tord was right now, laid out beneath him.

He looked so exhausted, and when Tom moved to gently brush his hair back, to push away the trussed strands that had stuck to his face, he was rewarded with bleary eyes cracking open.

Smoky hues were glossy, not quite there. But they still willed themselves to meet inky black.

"Mmm?"

Oh, and if that wasn't the cutest thing in the world. Fucked out, floaty. His voice sounded softer. He was much less infuriating this way.

"Nothing. Just wondering if you're up for more. I mean, y'know, I kind of have a problem here."

Those dead eyes blinked slowly at the other man, as if he were trying to desperately process the words that he was faced with.

But those eyes, the ones that drew Tom in like a moth to a flame. Like the cool grey pebbles you'd skip over the lake in Spring. Those eyes. Perfect and hooded and enchanting. 

They simply continued to stare up at him as another wave of relaxation washed over him, slumping deeper into the Brit's bed, and by extension, deeper into that small safety net in his brain he'd retreated to.

A spot that left his inner mind floating pleasantly, a place where he had no worries. A place he didn't know he had, but now that he was there?

Now that he knew he trusted Tom enough to take care of him? Now that there was a break in the constant stressors of pushing forward to create an army in secret..?

Well, to be blunt, Tord didn't want to come back up to the world of the living at all.

It took Tord an unsettling amount of time to respond, but when he did, it was with a loopy smile.

"Later. I owe you. Where is my clothes?"

The way pointed canines poked out over dry lips was a grounding reality to Tom, very characteristic of Tord.

The stumble over English, the way he was already starting to burrow beneath Tom's blankets made him worry still.

Edd would kill him if it got out that he broke their foreign roommate with a poorly planned out sexcapade.

"Forget it. Let's not worry about that now, right?"

The Brit stood to get off his bed, ignoring the way that absent haze in Tord's eyes sharpened into something that looked like concern and panic.

He was deep, wasn't he?

Tom hadn't been prepared for this, not aware how easy it was for Tord to fall into a mental state that he'd read about on the odder place on the internet once upon a time.

Subspace.

It made sense. Tord was always so up in arms, always so guarded. In retrospect, he should have done some research. He'd never imagined they'd have a night spent together that would get intense enough in Tord's eyes to require any type of after care.

At least he knew how vulnerable Tord could become while indulging in a bit of power play. Now he'd be able to keep that in mind for the future.

And probably do some more reading up on it, so he didn't feel as hopelessly lost as he did now.

"Hey. It's fine, I'm not going anywhere. Just getting some stuff to refuel."

The anxiety filled eyes on him were a bit unsettling, but they weren't trailing after him for long. As he sat back down with a water bottle from the other side of his room, those eyes were back to being unfocused.

Then, to being shut again. Exhaustion creeping over Tord's body as Tom moved to rest beside him.

A gentle hand urged Tord to sit up, ignoring the inconvenienced whine he was met with.

"I know. You're tired, and I'll let you get some sleep, but you have to drink something for me first, alright?"

Tom watched as Tord took the bottle from him, silently obeying the request. He tipped back a decent amount, enough to satisfy Tom, before closing it back up and tossing it aside.

"Wanna sleep."

Tom's lips curved into an amused grin at the childish statement, giving a sharp nod of his head to indicate that Tord could go back to doing what he had been moments before.

He needed to be told right now what to do, to be good and listen to what Tom was telling him, and the Brit understood as such.

The only solace was knowing that Tord would bounce back to normal after he woke up.

Tord laid back down again, nuzzling his head into Tom's pillows to get comfortable, face going lax and eyes drifting shut. He was soon joined by the Brit laying down beside him, pulling the forgotten blue blanket up to wrap them both up.

One of Tom's arms moved out to wrap around Tord, pulling him flush against his side.

The pleased sigh he got in return for it made him feel just as weak as he had before this night got off track.

Once more taken in by how passive and peaceful Tord could manage to be when his mind wasn't attacking him from every direction.

Tom laid his chin to rest on the top of Tord's head, his own eyes closing as the horror movie still played on.

Warmth, comfort, white noise.

Just as warm as the man in his arms who had gone back to silence, gone back to the soft, even breathing that convinced Tom he was already asleep.

Tom was about to be ready to follow, but the sound of a rough voice brought his attention back. Raw and real.

"I was good, right? I was okay?"

Tom's heart melted.

"Yes, you were amazing. We had a lot of fun, but I need you to go to sleep now, okay? You need to rest."

The response was near instant. Tord curled up further against Tom's body, and the silence between them returned.

Black eyes continued to watch over Tord, to make sure he would continue to be alright.

And when the soft, periodic snores began to float into the air, he knew that his job had been done.

The last thing he remembered seeing before his own mind slipped into the embrace of sleep, cuddled close and comfortable beside Tord, was the perfect way a shared blanket moved each time the man below him took in another breath.

His final thought of the night securing the fact that he would be much more observant in watching everything this perfect man would do in the days, weeks, and months to come.

To be able to match Tord's beauty and to be able to pay him back in every possible way for sharing his undeserved affections with him and him alone.

And to always be able to show this ever growing love lust between them.

It was the least he could do, right?

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated 👉👈🥺
> 
> as are construct criticism and your thoughts


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